


Baby

by kierenmonroe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Idek what this is Im sorry, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 14:33:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4023499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kierenmonroe/pseuds/kierenmonroe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hello?"</p><p>"Dean Winchester?"</p><p>"Yeah, I’m him. Sorry, but who’s calling?"</p><p>"My name is Michael. I work with Castiel."</p><p>Dean snorted. Cas had been hoping to attend the game, but had been held up at the office. "What’d he do this time?"</p><p>"I’m sorry, Mr. Winchester. Castiel..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby

**Author's Note:**

> I found this prompt somewhere and I kinda had to Im sorry.

"C’mon, get the puck out of your zone!  Fucks sake."   
  
Dean sighed and leaned back in his chair, taking a long drink from his beer. Playoff hockey was amazing, but it was nerve wracking as hell and it drove him crazy. The final minute passed and the horn blared, announcing the end of the second period.   
  
Sam threw his hands up in exasperation as the teams skated off the ice. "Game 7, man. I hate it."  
  
Dean laughed and nodded, standing up with a stretch. "Want another beer?" he asked, but Sam shook his head. He already had his phone out, probably texting Jess to bitch about the game. Dean ruffled Sam’s hair--earning himself a loud noise of disapproval--and maneuvered his way out of the seats. He trotted down the steps and out into the crowded atrium, making his way to the beer cart. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out, stepping up to the end of a long line. He didn’t recognize the number, but he accepted it and held the phone to his ear.   
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Dean Winchester?"  
  
"Yeah, I’m him. Sorry, but who’s calling?"  
  
"My name is Michael. I work with Castiel."  
  
Dean snorted. Cas had been hoping to attend the game, but had been held up at the office. "What’d he do this time?"  
  
"I’m sorry, Mr. Winchester. Castiel..."  
  
Dean felt his blood turn to ice. He pushed his way toward the wall, trying to get away from all the loud voices. Everything was suddenly too much, too loud, and he could feel his pulse pounding in his veins.   
  
"What’s going on? Is Cas okay?"  
  
"I’m afraid not. I’m so sorry, Dean. He was...he went out to get dinner for us, and there was someone-the shouldn’t have been driving. They were drunk, and Castiel..."  
  
Dean couldn’t breathe. No way was this happening. He felt heavy, like he was stuck in syrup. "Listen, man, you better let me know what the hell is going on with my husband or so help me-"  
  
"He passed away. I’m so sorry, Dean."  
  
The voices have faded to a dull buzz and Dean feels himself sink to the ground. One hand is pressed to the floor, his forehead against the cool stone of the wall.  He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get the air to move from point A to point B and Michael is saying something, and there’s a person’s hand on his shoulder. He knows people are staring but he can’t fucking breathe.   
  
"He-Jesus Christ." Dean closes his eyes, hoping this is all some sick joke. Some dream. "Is this for real? Are you some sick fuck messing with me?  Why didn’t the hospital contact me?"  
  
"They tried, but they couldn’t get through. They contacted me and gave me your number and Castiel, he was talking about some game..." Michael takes a deep breath, the sound loud in Dean’s ear. "They did everything they could. The driver was going so fast, and Castiel had pushed someone out of the way. I-I saw it all happen from my office window."  
  
Dean can visualize it, and he retches. Standing 10 floors up and seeing Cas, his baby, pushing someone out of the way. "I can’t. Uhm. God, Cas. Okay, where did they take him?"  
  
"Inova Hospital, on 13th. I sent for a car to pick you up-"  
  
"Thanks." Dean grunts and he hangs up, pushing himself to his feet. He moves slowly, making his way through the crowd, not caring who he runs into. Moments later he finds himself at his seat, not entirely sure how he managed to climb the stairs. Sam looks up from his phone and is on his feet in an instant, hands on Dean’s shoulders. "Dean? What happened, you’re shaking."  
  
"Cas."   
  
It’s all he can say and then he’s running, knocking people aside as he sprints for the doors. He hears Sam behind him making apologies but he doesn’t turn. He pushes through the final set of doors and stumbles out onto the sidewalk. He can taste metal and he doesn’t know if it’s the bitter air or blood in his mouth, and he falls down against a railing. Sam drags him to his feet as a man in a dark suit makes his way over.   
  
"Mr. Winchester?"  
  
Sam responds and then Dean is in the car, staring blankly at his hands. There’s blood on the edge of his jersey and he doesn’t know where it came from, but he rubs at it, smearing it and blending it into the fabric. He spends the whole ride staring at that stain, only looking up when Sam grabs his arm.   
  
"Dean, were here. The hospital."  
  
Dean nods and tries to stand but falls from the car, landing on his hands and knees on the curb. Sam runs around to help and pulls Dean to his feet with an arm wrapped around his waist. Holding him up, because Dean can’t make himself move. They walk into the building and follow a concerned nurse as she leads them down the hall to a small office. The doctor inside explains what Dean already knows. Words float out to him-"lawsuit", "it was probably painless, at the end" and he can’t do it.   
  
"I wanna see him."  
  
He hopes in the back of his mind that maybe there was a mix up. Maybe they pulled another dark haired man into the ambulance, another man with eyes the color of the sky. Because it can’t be his Cas, there’s no way. Cas, who looks both ways before crossing the road. Who double checks everything with a plug, who makes sure the doors and windows are all locked in their little house. Cas, who just this morning woke Dean with gentle kisses and soft hands.   
  
Not his Cas. Not his baby.   
  
He’s lead down more long hallways and the air is thick with the smell of antiseptic. Dean is faintly aware of Sam beside him, never leaving his side, and he’s grateful.   
  
Then he’s being ushered into a small room, looking out into the morgue and Christ, there’s a body bag. Sam inhales sharply and leans away, retching into the corner. Dean can’t stop staring.   
  
A man on the other side of the window slowly unzips the bag, and an arm falls limply over the edge of the table. And God, Dean would recognize that hand anywhere but his mind is still telling him no. This isn’t happening.   
  
He hears a keening sound and he notices belatedly that he’s making it, and Sam is holding him up as he shatters apart because the bag is out of the way and there he is. Cas, who cried watching Marley & Me. Cas, who laughed yesterday watching Dean swat at the bugs around him while they tried to enjoy a romantic picnic in Old Town. Cas, who had kissed him before he left the house this morning.  "I’ll see you tonight. Have fun at the game!"  Cas, who just two months ago had said "I do" with a smile so wide Dean could see each of his teeth. Cas, who held Dean as he wept over the death of his mother in the ninth grade.   
  
His Cas.  His baby. 

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my [Tumblr](http://needydean.tumblr.com)? And please leave kudos/comments to let me know what you thought!


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